Standing Firm As The Ground Shakes Beneath Me
by Bexish
Summary: Rory says yes to Logan's proposal, and then receives an entirely different kind of offer right after. Did she say yes to soon? What's an engaged girl to do?


A/N: The episode where Logan proposed to Rory was on the other morning and this idea came to mind, but with a few other long stories going on I thought I'd just flesh the idea out into a little drabble. I would absolutely love to know what you guys think would happen next! I just couldn't decide myself. The title comes from The Band Perry's "End of Time".

* * *

><p>"Rory Gilmore, will you marry me?"<p>

"Logan, of course! Yes," she amended. "Definitely yes." The crowd chuckled, but Rory didn't even notice. It felt like her grandparents' party had shrunk down to just the two of them. As Logan slipped the beautiful ring on her finger, Rory felt like she was floating high above everything. After she admired the ring, she looked over at herm om and dad. They looked happy, but her mom looked like she was trying to hide sadness, too.

For a brief moment, Rory was sad too. Stars Hollow had always been her home. Even when she was away at school, she had her house to come back to in the summers. Now she would be leaving for good. No more Stars Hollow summers. She would be with Logan, her husband.

It wasn't until after the party that Logan told her why he had picked that particular moment to propose.

"You—I mean we—are moving to California?" Rory asked, feeling a little apprehensive. She wished he had told her before proposing. She didn't _think _it would have changed her answer, but it would've been nice to know that Logan had accepted a job on the other side of the country. Now she was committed.

Logan nodded. "Soon," he said. "I'd like to be out there by the first of the month." Noticing her look of panic, he forged ahead. "I already found us a house that we can rent. It's a little two bedroom with a big backyard. It's got an avocado tree!"

"I do like guacamole," Rory said lamely, her head spinning. "Is that why you were out there so long? You were house hunting?" How could he have been so sure she would say yes to his proposal?

"Well, I talked to our real estate guy before I left so we'd have some options if the meetings went well and he found a place, so there was no real hunting involve," Logan said. "It just kind of fell in my lap. I didn't sign a lease or anything yet so we'll have to stay in a hotel for a week or so while all of that is processed, but then it's ours. To live in, at least."

"Wow. California." Rory didn't know anything about California. She wasn't sure she could actually picture herself living there. Of course, she wouldn't have much time to picture things before they actually left.

"Just a straight shot up the highway to all your San Francisco papers," Logan said easily. "It's perfect how it's all worked out."

"Perfect," Rory echoed, resting her head on his shoulder. All of a sudden she had a massive headache.

Rory's phone vibrated in the pocket of her graduation gown, but she had no choice but to ignore it. It felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket as she watched her classmates cross the stage. At long last her tassel was on the other side of her cap and she was sprung free. Since she family was lost in the throng of people, the first thing she did was pull out her phone. She didn't recognize the number that had called, but they had left a voicemail. Curiously, Rory dialed her voicemail. She hadn't been expecting a call from anyone, but she had one new message anyway.

"This is Pam Carlyle from the Philadelphia Inquirer," it began. "We were very impressed with your resume and to cut to the chase, we'd like to offer you a position as a copywriter. Don't worry about an interview or anything. I know this is hardly the usual protocol, but one of our writers left on terrible terms and we need to fill the position ay-sap. We're in a huge jam; I'll fill you in more in person. Call me back as soon as you can and we can work things out, okay? We've read your work and we'd love to have you on staff!"

Rory listened to the message two more times before her family caught up with her. Even though she was in total shock, she played it off well enough. She didn't want to tell her family about the job offer right away. They probably wouldn't even believe her. It sounded insane, after all. She hadn't even interviewed with the Inquirer and they were offering her a position? In what world did that happen?

There was also the fact that not even 24 hours ago she had accepted Logan's proposal, which meant moving to Palo Alto, clear across the country from Philadelphia. For a little while, she pushed the offer out of her head. She enjoyed dinner with her family and Logan and let them talk about her graduation party and her big move to California. She didn't chime in as much as usual, but nobody seemed to notice. Later that evening at her mom's house, though, she broke out her laptop.

The Inquirer wasn't as reputable as some of the papers she had applied to, but it was good. The more she researched, the bigger the knot in her stomach got. She wanted this job. A few weeks ago Rory had turned down a great job offer from the Providence Journal Bulletin, and after not getting the internship she had been holding out for she had learned how important sure things in life could be. Logan was a sure thing, but would she be able to find a job in San Francisco? It was a lot to gamble on.

But this job, this was real. The offer was sitting in her voicemail box, a sure thing. Then there was the ring on her finger, symbolizing another sure thing. What would happen to her and Logan if she took the job? How could they possibly be engaged when they were living in different time zones? She wanted it all, and that was simply impossible. She had accepted Logan's proposal already. The job offer had come in too late. Rory knew she should have called Logan to talk to him about the job, but her fingers pulled up another number instead.

"Jess?" she said once he picked up. "What's it like living in Philadelphia?"


End file.
